A Prostitute's Client
by AZEX
Summary: John X OC. Ame Westfield is roped into a Saturday detention in which dope is smoked, secrets shared and friendships formed. She discovers that maybe there is some value in school and having faith in people. This story will include Monday, doesn't follow the script word-for-word.
1. Chapter 1

A Prostitute's Client

A/N: Hello people! I'm back with something new, I recently re-watched the Breakfast Club was brilliant as always. Thought I'd try something new and write an M rated fic, hope everyone enjoys the first chapter!

Saturday, March 24, 1984

Shermer High School

Shermer, Illinois. 60062.

Dear Mr. Vernon,

We accept the fact that we had to sacrifice a whole Saturday in detention for whatever it was we did wrong. What we did was wrong.

But we think you're crazy enough to make us write an essay telling you who we think we are.

What do you care?

You see us as you want to see us; in the simplest terms, the most convenient definitions.

You see us as a brain, an athlete, a basket case, a princess, a drop-out and a criminal.

Correct?

That's the way we saw each other at 7:00 this morning. We were brainwashed.

Intro

Frost settled on the empty sports fields and running tracks of Shermer High bringing a quiet and undisturbed peacefulness to the grounds. Deserted bleachers had a thin layer of frosty paint, making them appear brand new. A gentle mist swept over the grounds giving everything a dreamlike quality. Shermer High School stood in the middle of the grounds looking every bit like a monster about to pounce; there would never be enough frost or mist to beautify the ugly, twisted mass of concrete.

It's grey front face and barred windows made it appear to be grinning maliciously, daring someone to approach. The worn down steps covered in a thin sheen of black ice ready to throw an innocent student to the ground.

A brain, an athlete, a basket case, a princess, a drop-out and a criminal sauntered, strutted or slouched their way to a Saturday detention.

Ame

Ame Westfield swaggered across the sports fields, dressed in far too little for this time of year, kicking at frost and running her hands along the frozen bleachers. Picking unconsciously at her nail varnish and wishing her boss had let her off work earlier so she could have changed out of her work uniform. Not for the first time she regretted taking another late shift in favour of making a bit of extra cash.

Having made her way to the front of the school, she pulled out a cigarette and reflected on why she was going to this detention in the first place. Someone had finally noticed her attendance, which stood at a school record low of 29.5%. She was almost proud. Dick- Mr Vernon hadn't hesitated to remind her that graduation was on the horizon and she would most likely be retaking this year with the other 'wastoids'

Oh the joy.

Looking around she noticed there were no other students. Early for once and at school for the first time in months. Except for the occasional art class, the one class she cared about enough to turn up for. The fact that she turned up at all for this detention was a miracle. She'd probably just use this time to catch up on sleep or observe the other people in the room.

 _Why did I even bother?_ She thoughtfrustrated with herself. Of course she knew the answer but was annoyed at herself for it. Her none- existent school career meant she had no friends her age and as much as it pissed her off to admit it she would have enjoyed the company. Emotional ties be damned. Maybe throwing herself into the middle of a group of other teens in the same situation as herself would ensure she made some friends, or at least had some people to talk to whenever she did show her face at school.

Stewing over this revelation, Ame sat, breathing in the sharp morning air and waited outside the dragon's lair.

Soooo... how was that? This time round I have actually planned this story out and so hopefully I won't lose steel 3 or 4 chapters in like I have with other fics! Give me a review or like, till next week Stele.


	2. Chapter 2

I forgot to write all the disclaimers last time but as per: I own nothing except my OC. Enjoy chapter 2!

Chapter 2

There were no alarms in the Bender household, as the very notion of rising before the sun had half crossed the sky deeply offended John Bender Sr. the only indication that the sun rose everyday was when it streamed in through John Bender Jr.'s curtain less windows.

However the light only served as a reminder of how shit it really was to live in the Bender household, the crisp March sunlight illuminating the cracked wall paper and the peeling paint. Not to mention the splinter filled wooden floorboards covered by a threadbare rug and the rusty door barely hanging onto its hinges.

The only sound in the house was the clattering and banging of Mrs Bender downstairs putting together her husband's lunch for much later in the morning (or early afternoon), in the hopes of appeasing his temper.

John always woke at the crack of dawn and would stare at the cracked paint on his ceiling for a few moments before haling himself up. Always hoping for the occasional day when his mother slept in so that he could have the house to himself, to collect his jumbled thoughts before slouching off to school or a bar somewhere.

 _Just another day in the Bender household,_ John sighed. _Got another fucking detention with Vernon today, couldn't forget that! Better get up; they would really miss me if I didn't show!_

Not usually one to feel sorry for himself, he pushed himself to his feet and reached for the nearest clean flannel shirt. Time to get today over with.

Claire

Rose pink walls surrounded a spotless room; a half open window blew a gentle breeze into the room. Rustling papers and tousling the hair of one Sleeping Beauty. Claire Standish, Prom Queen of two years and pride of the school.

Gently peeling her eyes open, she sat up to survey her perfect room. Like something out of a fairy tale, all the books on shelves where straight and in order. Her clothes arranged in what would make perfect outfits and what colours matched, with harmonizing shoes, hats and scarves.

However the dresser was the crowning jewel of the room, completely white with a curved oval mirror, it was littered with jewellery and make up, hairbrushes and accessories. It was all so perfect you would expect a parade of woodland animals to arrive at any moment to wish Claire 'good morning.'

No alarm was needed when your dreams where a reality when you woke up. However there was trouble in paradise, downstairs she could already hear the beginnings of a row between her parents, over something as simple as passing the wrong jam.

Claire was suddenly jerked out of her normal Saturday morning haze, to the realisation that there was an all day detention with her name on it today. Groaning she lay back to gaze at her milky white ceiling,

 _How can this be fair? No one would expect this of the Prom Queen, I had better try my best to pretend today never happened to uphold my reputation. Maybe if i ask Daddy really nicely he can get me out of it and out of being grounded, too._ She moped. _However the day can always be brightened with picking out clothes, right? Today feels like a pink kind of day..._

Hey peeps! Hope this was ok, I'm going to keep with this style of writing as I think it gives a good perspective from all the characters! See you next time, Stele :)


	3. Chapter 3

Fancy seeing you here? I'm back with another chapter! As always I don't own anything only my OC, enjoy..

Chapter 3

Brian

In the Johnson household, Brian was woken up by his mother opening the curtains, without even glancing in his direction before striding out the room to help his little sister get dressed. Any sting he should have felt from being ignored by his mother was nullified by how overwhelmingly tired he was and how worried he was about today's detention.

Glancing over to his alarm clock he saw that it was still five minutes before his actual alarm was set. Turning over he looked around his room and was saddened by what he saw, it was so lifeless. Like something out of a magazine, immaculate, with rows upon rows of books all in alphabetical order. His desk neatly organise with finished homework and test papers, but the thing he hated most was the matching curtains and bedspread. Orange and yellow checked curtains, his mother had chosen them, told him they would 'brighten up the place.'

Looking down at himself he realised even his pyjamas had been selected by his mother, now that really was sad. Heaving himself up he wandered over to his bathroom, glancing in he glared at the orange bath mat on the floor, why did his mother have his assumption that he liked orange? Maybe this was some sort of psychological punishment.

Sighing he went into the bathroom and ran through his normal routine. Before methodically selecting clothes which would gain him the least amount of attention in any room. Glancing in the mirror he turned away in disgust, what he saw there wasn't Brian Johnson, it was Mr & Mrs Johnson's top of the class, straight A son and he hated himself.

Andrew

Much like in the Johnson household alarm clocks weren't need or necessary, they were simply there to pretend normality to any outsiders that visited. At 5:30 sharp Andrew Clarke was woken up by his father for his morning run and drills. The morning schedule was the same every day since he had started wrestling, which was practically since his whole life. As long as he'd been wrestling there had been morning drills. Wake up, 5 minute shower, run, drills and then a pep talk from his father which could last anything from 2 to 45 minutes. To Andrew the morning schedule all blurred into one long episode of bitter wind, being yelling at and disappointment. The disappointment was always there, omnipresent, looming, however that particular morning it was brought to the forefront of his mind especially prevalent when every his father sighed, or his eyebrows furrowed in an aggravated frown.

In good tradition the only 'good morning' Andrew really got from his father was a heavy thwack on the back and a muffled 'good session, much to be improved to win...' The rest of his family where the exact opposites; his siblings seemingly always stowed away in their rooms, working on projects with muted bangs, crashes and swears coming from behind closed doors. Never leaving their rooms except for meals, lest they had to face their father and his disappointment in their existence.

His mother moved like a wraith around the house, cooking and cleaning; the perfect housewife but silent and cold, with judging, suspicious eyes. She regarded her children with vigilance as if the moment she turned her back they would steal something and make a break for the open road. This accusing stare may have been deserved as Andrew remembered being 6 and stealing from the cookie jar and being caught shortly afterwards, his mother never had trusted him quite the same since.

Overlaying everything was a healthy serving of tension and stress, blanking out and hushing conversations throughout the house. Whenever Andrew lay still and quiet for long enough he could almost place a sound to the tension, a high pitched whining noise which could be heard from every corner of the house. Strangely the house was never exactly quiet, the whining always intermingled with the crashing of dishes or the rustling of a paper as if everything the Clarkes did was inlayed with anxiety and wariness.

Going to school every morning was almost a relief for Andrew, the loud halls and excitable students temporarily replacing his tense home life. For a few brief hours Andrew could intermingle with students and become the 'jock' that everyone deemed him to be. For a short moment in time Andrew could be 'normal'.

Hey people how was that? I have to admit this is a chapter that I struggled with a lot, I find Andrew particularly hard to write as I don't know anyone like him or with his mind set! I hope he didn't get too OOC, anyway tried my best, till next time Stele.


	4. Chapter 4

It's a me, Stele. Back with another chapter, in the same day! As always I own nothing except my OC.

Allison

Unlike her classmates Allison didn't wake up to the clattering of pots or the twittering of birds. She didn't wake up at all as she had been awake all night, thanks to small shots of vodka and liberal amounts of whatever sugar she could find in the kitchen. The house was silent as it always was, you would think the house was abandoned if you didn't see the occasional light flash on or a curtain twitch.

Looking in a nearby mirror she assessed the damage of her night without sleep, the circles around her eyes where slightly darker and her cheeks strangely hollowed. Nothing some black eyeliner couldn't fix.

Allison looked around her shadow soaked room, she could just make out the bed in the corner and her bathroom door. Moving back to draw the curtain, she hesitated. Drawing the curtains meant she had to get up, getting up meant leaving the room and leaving the room meant facing the silence. The endless, silence which pressed against the eardrum and gave the illusion of hearing a dull ringing sound which was really just your own blood rushing around your skull.

Not one to wallow in self pity she yanked the curtain back, sunlight spill into the room, highlighting the unkept bed, empty sugar packets and some shot glasses. Just on the very slight off chance her parents wandered into her room, she kept the vodka safely stowed away.

Glancing back in her mirror she adjusted her dark clothes, rubbed more eyeliner on to disguise the dark circles and grabbed her bag. Checking through it for all the necessities before digging under her bed for some extra sherbets, before shuffling toward the door.

Ame

After waiting outside the school doors for 2 hours or maybe only half an hour a janitor took pity on her and let her in early. He introduced himself as Carl, as he escorted her through the halls after she admitted she had no idea where the library was.

'So... Who would you be then? I don't remember seeing you around the halls..' Carl said, trying to make conversation.

Grudgingly Ame mumbled her name and something about 'not being here much' and having 'other stuff to do.'

'Well Vernon and the school office obviously don't agree with you!' He chuckles at his own joke, 'Not to be rude but, why wouldn't you have an interest in school, nice girl like you..?'

That shocked her slightly, 'nice girl'... from the outside no one she had the unassuming look of any other teenage girl her age, minus the fancy jewellery or costly clothing. Ame knew where this conversation was heading, it started with one question and then another, and another, until it snowballed into the person trying to figure out her life story. She was not about to go down that road again,

'Look Carl, I'm just here to serve my detention and leave this hellhole, OK?' She felt almost bad, he had only been nice to her. Quickly she shut down her guilt, nice people asked questions and questions lead to pity and that was the last thing she needed any more of.

Carl looked slightly shocked but he was used to dealing with teenagers and there see-saw emotions and raging hormones,

'This is your stop.' He grinned at her, 'Well Miss Ame, even if school is a waste of time to you don't forget to say 'hi' when every you make it in.'

Turning around to leave, he looked over his should before saying offhandedly 'It's not all bad, y'know?'

She wondered what he meant from that comment, because from what she'd seen of life so far it was pretty shit.

Wandering into the library she was surprised at such a nice room being in such a shitty school. Except for the weird statue in the middle, it was almost comfortable. And it was warm. She huddled further into her parker and pulled her stockings up to her knees.

Selecting a seat on the left, in the very back row she pulled out her Walkman and headphones. Absentmindedly picking out some songs, before kicking back and closing her eyes.

How was it? I've kinda left a description of Ame and what she is wearing out as I felt the reader could form their own image of her based on her attitude and thoughts, I may describe her in some more detail a bit later on. R&R people, till the next chapter, Stele


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimers, disclaimers... I own nothing except my OC... Etc...

Just on a side note, I am trying to update this as much as I can, but having just gone back to school and with a shitty computer it's quite difficult! Please bare with me!

On with the story!

John

Bender surveyed the library and sneered, what a motley crew of idiots. This group couldn't have been more randomly selected, one person from each group 'faction' within the school was represented. It was obviously their first time in a Saturday detention, and for some their first time in a detention, ever.

One of the group even seemed to be jittering with nerves, twitching every time someone made the smallest noise. The others faces where expressionless, save the occasional nervous tick of blinking or flared nostrils.

Taking a seat nearly at the back he noticed a figure he'd never encountered before in the halls, as there weren't a lot of people in Shermer walking around with razor straight, glossy black hair. The person looked like the sort to blend into their surrounding so he couldn't be sure who they were exactly.

He knew he wasn't on the best terms with everyone at the school but he at least prided himself on being able to recognise every single face, of every student that attended this hellhole. He couldn't help but thinking he recognising the person's hair but he couldn't for the life of him place them.

Bender had a strong urge to shove the person just to confirm his suspicions, when his number one fan walked in...

Ame

Ame was drifting in and out of consciousness, in her dreams she was always surrounded by an unending blackness, the occasional flashing lights nearly blinding her. Around her and swathes of brightly coloured fabric ducked in and out of the flashing light. She was climbing, climbing up towards the light and the way out. Soon she was so close she could also reach out and touch the light, claw her way out of this dark, suffocating hole.

In the semi-conscious part of her brain Ame could hear faint murmuring of what could only be people talking,

'You will not sleep!'

Ame's feet hit the floor with a loud thump after being shoved off the desk with more force than necessary. Bleary eyes opened taking in one angry Dick-Vernon and five other students faces, none of which she could name or place. She stared at her desk top trying her best to avoid eye contact.

'Is that clear missy?'

Ame's sleep addled brain registered that she was being addressed and she slurred out a quick series of 'Yessirs'

Pleased with himself Dick strutted back to the front desks and continued to blab on about how the detention would run. Running her hands through her hair, Ame mentally took back her earlier thought about wanting to make friends. Now that she looked around she hoped that all these people were as antisocial as she was and none of them would engage in any conversation. She wasn't scared easily but talking to new people was certainly a daunting prospect.

Dick finally left the room and Ame registered the others glancing at her and one outright staring at her, this was going to be one long, shitty day.

Hope this chapter was satisfactory, until the next one Stele :)


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimers, I own only my OC..

Also I have taken notice that each chapter is getting shorter and shorter, so just as a general consensus; Long vs. Short chapters, which should I be writing more of? Please take into consideration that longer chapters will take more time... short but sweet is what I say..

Allison 

When Dick finally left the library and returned to his office, where he would occasionally peer round the door like a vulture awaiting unsuspecting prey, Allison had time to glance around at the gaunt, drawn faces of her fellow detainees.

The bright lights of the library shone onto the teenagers faces, emphasizing dark circles, shining on sweaty foreheads and hollowing cheeks. From a distance the collection of teens looked motionless but in close proximity Allison noted each one of their individual movements. Whilst loudly biting her nails she observed each person, eyes lingering for a small amount of time but never long enough to be noticed or caught.

Some where a flurry of constant movement playing with pens or matches, some staring listlessly into space whereas others were still as the morning mist, eyes glazed and heads bowed.

That was only one person really she noted, they say on the adjacent desk to hers staring down at the desk, hair draped in front of her face shading her features from view. Only a singular silver dangly earring was visible around her dark curtain of hair. The crystal inlays and twisted pattern where startlingly familiar.

Struggling to place where exactly she had seen the earring, she had never seen this girl in school before. She was so absorbed in her thoughts she didn't notice that she had been staring too long until she felt a pair of eyes upon her. Glancing up she looked into cold, assessing eyes that gave away no emotion. The eyes judged her, was she a threat? An ally? Or possibly a means to escape?

Allison recognised a kindred emotion in the icy orbs, an expression of trepidation, the eyes briefly darted away looking to the nearest exit. The stare couldn't have lasted longer than two seconds but Allison felt almost vulnerable, all her personal thoughts and mentality laid bare before this girl.

Allison refused to look at anyone or anything for the next hour, instead staring resolutely at the wall opposite.

Claire

Pastel pink nails lightly tapped the decrepit table top, only stopping occasionally to check that none of the nail varnish had chipped away. Then Claire would straighten her already meticulous skirt before running a hand through her already perfectly arranged hair. Soon afterwards her hazel eyes would flicker up to look at the clock before starting the whole routine again. Nails, skirt, hair, clock.

Soon she felt someone watching her, the gaze burning her, peaking over her shoulder but never actually turning around she glimpsed the intense, shining eyes that were watching her with such avid fascination. Fascination was one word for it; the eyes were expressive in a way she had never seen. Now that she thought about, in her mind's eye, that fascination was beginning to look a lot more similar to scorn or even loathing. How dare this bright eyed individual judge her, Claire Standish queen bee of the school, who did she think she was? Claire briefly considered marching over there just to set this girl straight, no one glares at her and lives to tell the tale.

But her hesitation stopped her, maybe this was all an illusion in her mind that girl wasn't really glaring. Was she? Maybe all the stress of going to this detention was getting to her, that and having to now work extra hard to up hold her reputation.

Maybe additional shopping trips were needed in her near future, for de-stressing purposes, obviously.

Ame

She truly had meant to go straight back to sleep after Dick had left the room, but she was too nervous to now. The other teenagers sat in front of her had to be analysed and observed. By nature Ame was not an aggressive soul but when she was backed into a corner, her hackles where raised and her sharp tongue was on hand to disarm any rowdy comments directed at her. Glaring at anyone who looked her way, she congratulated herself, sitting in the back had been a wise choice now she could now watch every other person's movements. This seat also proved useful when the others started to interact with each other at least at the back no one would notice her.

Ame scrutinizes them all from afar, nearly snickering when the two alpha males decide to go at each other in a ridiculous fashion. And for the first time she sees the perfect prom queen look something other than perfect, embarrassed, flustered. Anything other than her usual smug face was good for Ame, it proved that she was in fact more human than machine.

After a while she became bored of watching the others fight and slipped on her headphones, she was completely satisfied thinking she had managed to fade into the background. Maybe the others would just ignore her?

Just as she was drifting back to sleep she felt a bump, her heartbeat quickened. There was someone in the seat next to her. She refused to look at all, they would just leave if she ignored them. Would they try to speak to her? What would they say? They were going to form a judgement on her the second she opened her mouth. Their eyes were on her, she could distinctly feel them gazing at the side of her face. Screw it they were going to judge her whether she opened her mouth or not.

Setting her head phones down, she pushed her hair away from her face, before turning to look at the intruder on her table.

So who is it at her table? Even I'm not sure yet! Until next time Stele..


	7. Chapter 7

Disclaimers: I own nothing, except Ame.

This chapter is dedicated to decedanceofmysoul, thank you for reviewing so much!

Ok so I got one answer to how long the chapters should be, so advanced apologies for how long this chapter may take to write! Also this story is still a John/Ame story, but with a very slow burn, buckle up folks...

Brian

The moment Brian had stepped into the room he checked the other people in the room, to check for danger. No one that would attack him. His eyes caught on the girl sitting in the back row. He had no qualms about not knowing her, he would recognise that pin-point stare anywhere. He knew he had seen her in the local afterschool class-crammer, close to the town's library. How every sure he had been had faded over the next hour until he could hear that niggling voice, which always sounded suspiciously like his mother, in the back of his telling him to check. Talk to her, just to be sure.

And so now here he was, after trying and failing to calm an argument between Bender and the wrestler. He was internally cursing himself and his hesitation, should he go and talk to her?

Just then Brian did something he had never done before, disobeyed the direct orders of an adult. He got up and he strode over to her table, growing more confident in every step. This girl had invoked a reaction in him that he never thought was possible, going against the orders of a teacher. With each step closer he could see more of her face and his assumptions about her were assured.

He took the seat next to her and wondered what to say. Not daring to open his mouth lest nothing but gibberish came out. Always think before you speak, as his mother would say but right now there was nothing he could think of to say!

As soon as he opened his mouth he could feel his confidence splintering, cracking. His resolve to talk to this almost stranger weakening and bending under the weight of his anxiety. He nearly gave up and was about to walk away, leaving only a muttered apology when the girl span round, eyes flashing,

'Can I help you?'

In that moment that he was resolute that he knew this girl, terribly awkward he stuttered out,

'N-Yes I was wondering have we met-you look familiar.'

The girl looked at him and for a moment he thought he had made a horrible decision, he must have sounded so creepy. She seemed to register his nervousness and extended a hand,

'I don't believe we have, I'm Ame, pleasure to meet you.'

He grasped her hand, of course she wouldn't remember him they only crossed paths once every Friday evening. He would be leaving his business crammer course and she would be heading in for the next session.

'I'm B-Brain, pleased to meet you too.'

Waiting for even a flicker of recognition behind her eyes, he was disappointed when Ame turned away. He wasn't going to let this opportunity slip through his fingers; he might find friendship in this person with an appreciation for business. In a rare moment of boldness he tried again,

'Are you sure we haven't met, I'm sure I've see you around the crammer school?'

If she didn't think he a creep before she would definitely think he a creep now. He must sound like some sort of stalker knowing where she was outside of school. Which brought up another strange thought, he'd never actually see her in the school before.

'Come to think of it I think I've seen you around, you take a class at the crammer? Don't tell me you're in my class?'

That made him feel better, at least she wasn't totally unaware of his existence. Hurrying to reply to his hopefully new friend,

'Yeah, I take the five past eight business class, on Friday. The one before yours.'

'I'm so sorry! I'm awful at remembering faces, very pleased to be reacquainted with you Brian. I don't know too many people at the crammer, in fact no one at all.'

They continued to talk about classes and the teacher they occasionally got when the normal one was away, the one who set too much homework. Why and where the other students where, how some of them fell asleep sometimes and would snore loudly. They were getting along so well they failed to notice the curious and in some cases hostile stares.

I'm sorry this has taken so long, i have been switching computers and transferring lots of files and photos. The exam stress has also taken hold even though my first exam isn't until next year, still I tried to use my stress to fuel my writing! Thanks for reading…


	8. Chapter 8

Disclaimer: I don't own the Breakfast Club *sigh*  
Hello, I have returned! I am really happy this story has over 2,000 views, that's awesome! I've never had a story with so may views…. Finally I'm updating, I know! I've been distracted by a new OC idea...ANYWAY, sadly updates are going to be slow as I am about to start at a new school. Thank you to everyone who has stuck with this story so far!

—-

John  
He studied the girl out of the corner of his eye, watching with curiosity as she spoke so openly and easily to the nerd. A few short minutes ago she had been avoiding speaking or ever catching anyone's eyes. She seemed to be amicably describing someone they both she and the nerd knew about, he was laughing softly at her as she stood up to emphasise her point. Her hair fanned out behind her, the silky strands coming back to rest against her neck, framing her face. In that instant her eyes flickered to John's and away. He felt his breath catch in his throat, she sure was easy on the eye. Maybe after he'd gotten first prize, he would go for second as well.

His mind whirred at the endless dirty possibilities, ones you would only expect from a teenage boy with too much time on his hands and a particularly good imagination.

Andrew

Andrew had never been particularly good with anything outside of sports. Feelings and friendships where simply a distraction, his father's favourite motto. His father really was good at being negative about anything outside of football. His father's entire life revolved around the his next match, sometimes Andrew wasn't even sure who was fighting anymore. It certainly wasn't him.

If only his knee would give way.

He could picture it all clearly. Agony, intense, screaming pain from his knee and spreading through his body. The flashing hospital lights. A shrill ambulance siren. Sharp, antiseptic soaps stinging his nose. Mr Clarke Sr shrieking at the doctors, outraged when they tell him that he won't be able to walk for the next six months, let alone wrestle ever again. His mother would smile at him weakly, tuck the blankets under him tightly before leaving. The rest of the wrestling team and his coach turning away, disappointed.

Recovery would be painful, but rejection even more so. Andrew knew that if this, this fantasy he had ever became a reality he would be rejected both at home and in school. He would cease to exist to his father, another child who had failed to live out his father's dream of being a sports star. His 'friends' would poke fun at him, mock his wound and his lack of talent for anything else. Classes would become torture, instead of being the assailant he would become the target of paper planes and spit balls. Cast out from his friendship group he would be dismissed from joining all other groups, it would be social suicide.

But, even with all of the hurt this would bring him he would be free. Free of everything except his own decisions. After all of the upheaval of this injury, his father would have no more interest or control in his life. High school would only last for a few more years anyway, then, maybe, just maybe, he could leave Shermer High behind and create a new life for himself. One day he would be able to visit museums and art galleries on Saturdays, when he would otherwise be training. One day he might even find a new group of friends who wouldn't ridicule him for wanting to read a book.

Andrew contemplated his life and his circumstances, while stealing glances at the others around the room. He would bet that the girl with the shiny black hair, sat next to Johnson, never had to follow her parents rules, she didn't turn up to school anyways. The same as Bender, they were both clear of any expectations from their parents, unrestricted to wander around as they pleased, unsupervised. What did they do with their time? What would he do with his time? How he would give anything for his parents to not care.

Thanks for reading, hopefully I'll post again soon. AZEX


	9. AN

A/N- For all stories; To any one who actually reads theses stories I write. I am going to be posting my continued stories on A03 from now on. I shall continue to post on but I feel more comfortable to share my work on AO3. Just if anyone was wondering, AZEX.


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